Me: Zzzzzz.Yollie: Zzzzzzz.Odie: *paws at sleeper's face, which has reappeared from under the pillow due to lack of oxygen* Odie: Dispenser of food, are you awake now? Is it time for kibble?Me: *looks blearily at clock and groans* Me: It's 5 in the bloody morning. It's not kibble time yet. Besides, there's still kibble in the bowl, I put some in there last night.Odie: But I want fresh kibble.Me: You can damn well wait. Me: *rolls over and burrows under covers*Odie: But...Me: No!Odie: ...Odie: *wanders over to sleeping Yollie and swats him*Yollie: Zzzzzz. Whu? What the...what did I do? Odie: Tell the food dispenser we need kibble.Yollie: Sod that.Yollie: *wanders over to the sleeping food dispenser and burrows under covers as well*Me and Yollie: *snuggle up*Odie: Fine. I'll just go outside again and do mighty hunter things.Me: Zzzzzz.Yollie: Zzzzzz.

Me: Zzzzzz.Yollie: Zzzzzzz.Odie: *paws at sleeper's face, which has reappeared from under the pillow due to lack of oxygen* Odie: Dispenser of food, are you awake now? Is it time for kibble?Me: *looks blearily at clock and groans* Me: It's 5 in the bloody morning. It's not kibble time yet. Besides, there's still kibble in the bowl, I put some in there last night.Odie: But I want fresh kibble.Me: You can damn well wait. Me: *rolls over and burrows under covers*Odie: But...Me: No!Odie: ...Odie: *wanders over to sleeping Yollie and swats him*Yollie: Zzzzzz. Whu? What the...what did I do? Odie: Tell the food dispenser we need kibble.Yollie: Sod that.Yollie: *wanders over to the sleeping food dispenser and burrows under covers as well*Me and Yollie: *snuggle up*Odie: Fine. I'll just go outside again and do mighty hunter things.Me: Zzzzzz.Yollie: Zzzzzz.

You had gooshy food. I don't care it's not the right kind of gooshy food. You ate it anyway, even though you complained all the while.

Yollie, you're a cat, for Glod's sake. Why do you insist on joining me in the shower? Also, stop trying to eat my Sonic Death Monkey.

No, I will not open a new can just because you feel this one isn't quite up to scratch. And believe me, if you keep whining at me, there will never be any gooshy food ever again, you hear?

No! This can does not contain your food. It's got beer in it. Go away.

Me opening the fridge does not mean you can just leap in. Get your furry arse out of the fridge, or I swear I'll dump you in the pond.

My chineefoo.

No eating my assignment.

Get away from the chicken coop. I know you won't do anything to them, but they don't. Stop freaking them out. Go catch some flies or something.

Stop dribbling at the chickens.

Odie? Why are you inside my pillow case?

No dribbling on my keyboard.

Right. I get it. Both of you are mighty hunters. I'm very proud of you. Now could you please stop leaving assorted dead animals on the doorstep?

Yes. Dragonflies are animals. Really, they are. Look it up some time.

It is warm and stuffy. This means the bedroom door is open. This means you can just stroll right in. So why do both of you feel the need to wail at me from the doorstep at 5 o'clock in the gods-be-damned morning?

Oh for...look, I sometimes need to get up at night to go to the bathroom, okay? This involves putting my feet on the floor. Yes, there are toes attached to my feet. Yes, they wriggle in an interesting manner. No, this does not mean you are allowed to pounce them. In fact, there is a rule in this house, remember? "No pouncing toes." If you ignore this rule, don't be surprised if you find yourself airborne and heading in the direction of the nearest wall.

Why are you eating that worm? Because it's there. I see. Right. I should have guessed. Carry on.

No leaving baby hares on my pillow.

Or dead mice in the bloody bathtub. (Literally. Ick.)

Or dead birds in the damn living room!

What do you mean "It's not dead"?

Oh my.

Okay. Scratch that rule. No birds in the house, period.

In fact, make it "No bringing animals into this house."

That bloody well includes bloody moles on my bloody keyboard, you overgrown fluffy maniac! If I catch you, I'm going to hop in the nearest time machine, travel back in time and sell you to the first violin maker I meet, do you hear me? Twit.

You had gooshy food. I don't care it's not the right kind of gooshy food. You ate it anyway, even though you complained all the while.

Yollie, you're a cat, for Glod's sake. Why do you insist on joining me in the shower? Also, stop trying to eat my Sonic Death Monkey.

No, I will not open a new can just because you feel this one isn't quite up to scratch. And believe me, if you keep whining at me, there will never be any gooshy food ever again, you hear?

No! This can does not contain your food. It's got beer in it. Go away.

Me opening the fridge does not mean you can just leap in. Get your furry arse out of the fridge, or I swear I'll dump you in the pond.

My chineefoo.

No eating my assignment.

Get away from the chicken coop. I know you won't do anything to them, but they don't. Stop freaking them out. Go catch some flies or something.

Stop dribbling at the chickens.

Odie? Why are you inside my pillow case?

No dribbling on my keyboard.

Right. I get it. Both of you are mighty hunters. I'm very proud of you. Now could you please stop leaving assorted dead animals on the doorstep?

Yes. Dragonflies are animals. Really, they are. Look it up some time.

It is warm and stuffy. This means the bedroom door is open. This means you can just stroll right in. So why do both of you feel the need to wail at me from the doorstep at 5 o'clock in the gods-be-damned morning?

Oh for...look, I sometimes need to get up at night to go to the bathroom, okay? This involves putting my feet on the floor. Yes, there are toes attached to my feet. Yes, they wriggle in an interesting manner. No, this does not mean you are allowed to pounce them. In fact, there is a rule in this house, remember? "No pouncing toes." If you ignore this rule, don't be surprised if you find yourself airborne and heading in the direction of the nearest wall.

Why are you eating that worm? Because it's there. I see. Right. I should have guessed. Carry on.

No leaving baby hares on my pillow.

Or dead mice in the bloody bathtub. (Literally. Ick.)

Or dead birds in the damn living room!

What do you mean "It's not dead"?

Oh my.

Okay. Scratch that rule. No birds in the house, period.

In fact, make it "No bringing animals into this house."

That bloody well includes bloody moles on my bloody keyboard, you overgrown fluffy maniac! If I catch you, I'm going to hop in the nearest time machine, travel back in time and sell you to the first violin maker I meet, do you hear me? Twit.

"I'm fairly certain I told you guys numerous times that you are not allowed on the desk. Don't look at me like that. No, I'm not falling for that 'Desk? what des...ooooh, this desk? I thought you meant that desk' routine. Get off the desk."

"Stop licking my leg, Kenny."

"You want to go out again? I just let you back in! What do you think I am? Your personal doorman? What do you mean, 'yes'?"

"Kenny? Look down. What do you see? Yes, that is a desk beneath your paws. A desk that is not supposed to be beneath your paws, as I already told you not five minutes ago. Get down. On the floor. The floor. Floor. NOW. Thank you."

"Snowball, same goes for you. I don't care you can't reach that spider when you're on the floor. You do not get on the desk. Go hunt a spider that's closer to the floor. Now get off the desk."

"Stop licking my leg."

"Ahahah *ow*. Those are my toes."

"Get out of the linen closet. No, this is not a portal to the magical land of plenty. It's a linen closet, and you're not allowed to be in there."

"Do you mind? I'm on the toilet. No, you can't come in. Stop scratching at the door. I'm not letting you in. Go away."

"Cats do not eat brownies!"

"Why are you in the oven? Uhuh, 'the door was open' is not an excuse."

"For heaven's sake, Kenny! Stop licking my leg! Weirdo."

"Cats do not belong in sinks."

"Okay, Kenny? 'Body butter'? Not the same as 'butter'. At all. Stop trying to eat it."

"Snowball, we really need to go over this whole 'ambush' thing. You know, the purpose of an ambush is to ambush people. It requires stealth. And cunning. And a good hiding place. Behind my shoe? Not a good hiding place."

"What are you doing in my bedside table? No, this is also not the portal to the magical land of plenty. Get out."

"Stop bouncing around the house like a slinky on crack!"

"I hate you so very very much."

"Stop humping Kenny!"

"Oh...ew."

"Let's go over this one more time, okay? Litter stays in the litter box. No need to spray it all over the kitchen."

"I'm fairly certain I told you guys numerous times that you are not allowed on the desk. Don't look at me like that. No, I'm not falling for that 'Desk? what des...ooooh, this desk? I thought you meant that desk' routine. Get off the desk."

"Stop licking my leg, Kenny."

"You want to go out again? I just let you back in! What do you think I am? Your personal doorman? What do you mean, 'yes'?"

"Kenny? Look down. What do you see? Yes, that is a desk beneath your paws. A desk that is not supposed to be beneath your paws, as I already told you not five minutes ago. Get down. On the floor. The floor. Floor. NOW. Thank you."

"Snowball, same goes for you. I don't care you can't reach that spider when you're on the floor. You do not get on the desk. Go hunt a spider that's closer to the floor. Now get off the desk."

"Stop licking my leg."

"Ahahah *ow*. Those are my toes."

"Get out of the linen closet. No, this is not a portal to the magical land of plenty. It's a linen closet, and you're not allowed to be in there."

"Do you mind? I'm on the toilet. No, you can't come in. Stop scratching at the door. I'm not letting you in. Go away."

"Cats do not eat brownies!"

"Why are you in the oven? Uhuh, 'the door was open' is not an excuse."

"For heaven's sake, Kenny! Stop licking my leg! Weirdo."

"Cats do not belong in sinks."

"Okay, Kenny? 'Body butter'? Not the same as 'butter'. At all. Stop trying to eat it."

"Snowball, we really need to go over this whole 'ambush' thing. You know, the purpose of an ambush is to ambush people. It requires stealth. And cunning. And a good hiding place. Behind my shoe? Not a good hiding place."

"What are you doing in my bedside table? No, this is also not the portal to the magical land of plenty. Get out."

"Stop bouncing around the house like a slinky on crack!"

"I hate you so very very much."

"Stop humping Kenny!"

"Oh...ew."

"Let's go over this one more time, okay? Litter stays in the litter box. No need to spray it all over the kitchen."

"There is food in your bowl. No, seriously, there is food in your bowl. I'm not going to feed you because there is already Food. In. Your. Bowl. I know this, because I put it there not half an hour ago. Now kindly shut up."

"Neither do cats drink tea. Get off the desk."

"No washing your private bits on the d...ew."

"I'm in the shower. Under warm running water. You hate water, so why do you insist on opening the door and coming in? You know you'll only get wet. See? Told you. Oooh, don't you dare pin this on me! Stop that hissing right now, you little imp."

"My lap is already occupied. See this really really big book? It's on my lap. Therefore there is no room on my lap for you. No. You can't. No. Get off. I'm trying to read here. Get. Off. My. Book."

"Snowball! Stop running up and down the stairs like a loon. You'll only fall off again and hurt yours...oh no. Are you okay?"

"I'm really not impressed by that poofy tail. Feel free to put it away."

"Er...Kenny? Why are you licking my foot?"

"My food."

"What was that crash?"

"Mine."

"Why is there mud on the floo...oh. Mum gave me that plant, you know."

"I could swear I had a cheese toastie just now. Anyone care to explain why I no longer have a cheesetoastie?"

"Oh, I'm ever so sorry for wanting some blankets all to myself. It's not like it's 25 degrees outside you know? And I don't come with handy fur to keep me warm, so can I please have some blanket? Some more please. Thank you."

"Shut up! It's four in the bloody morning! You will not be fed, or let out, or be petted for at least another three hours. Go to sleep. Not on top of Kenny. Or on top of me. Or on top of Johan."

"There is food in your bowl. No, seriously, there is food in your bowl. I'm not going to feed you because there is already Food. In. Your. Bowl. I know this, because I put it there not half an hour ago. Now kindly shut up."

"Neither do cats drink tea. Get off the desk."

"No washing your private bits on the d...ew."

"I'm in the shower. Under warm running water. You hate water, so why do you insist on opening the door and coming in? You know you'll only get wet. See? Told you. Oooh, don't you dare pin this on me! Stop that hissing right now, you little imp."

"My lap is already occupied. See this really really big book? It's on my lap. Therefore there is no room on my lap for you. No. You can't. No. Get off. I'm trying to read here. Get. Off. My. Book."

"Snowball! Stop running up and down the stairs like a loon. You'll only fall off again and hurt yours...oh no. Are you okay?"

"I'm really not impressed by that poofy tail. Feel free to put it away."

"Er...Kenny? Why are you licking my foot?"

"My food."

"What was that crash?"

"Mine."

"Why is there mud on the floo...oh. Mum gave me that plant, you know."

"I could swear I had a cheese toastie just now. Anyone care to explain why I no longer have a cheesetoastie?"

"Oh, I'm ever so sorry for wanting some blankets all to myself. It's not like it's 25 degrees outside you know? And I don't come with handy fur to keep me warm, so can I please have some blanket? Some more please. Thank you."

"Shut up! It's four in the bloody morning! You will not be fed, or let out, or be petted for at least another three hours. Go to sleep. Not on top of Kenny. Or on top of me. Or on top of Johan."

Just collected him from the vet. He's got three molars and two canines left, entire upper jaw is now devoid of teeth. They rinsed out his ears, and found why he's been going deaf. Apparently somewhere in the past two weeks or so, Mister Kenny managed to rupture his eardrums.

At this point he's still in his travel cage, wanting desperately to be let out, but looking at the state of him, I'm leaving him in there for a while. At least until his eyes stop crossing every few minutes, and he doesn't fall over when I breathe on him. He's not happy about this. At all. So I've been ablse to establish that there's absolutely nothing wrong with his vocal chords. And for some reason I think Kenny will now have got over his crush on the female vet.

Snowball is kind of leery of the whole business and jumps everytime Kenny moves. He's now hiding under the table staring suspiciously at the cage and the wobbly red thing inside. He smells of vet, which is a Bad Smell.

Just collected him from the vet. He's got three molars and two canines left, entire upper jaw is now devoid of teeth. They rinsed out his ears, and found why he's been going deaf. Apparently somewhere in the past two weeks or so, Mister Kenny managed to rupture his eardrums.

At this point he's still in his travel cage, wanting desperately to be let out, but looking at the state of him, I'm leaving him in there for a while. At least until his eyes stop crossing every few minutes, and he doesn't fall over when I breathe on him. He's not happy about this. At all. So I've been ablse to establish that there's absolutely nothing wrong with his vocal chords. And for some reason I think Kenny will now have got over his crush on the female vet.

Snowball is kind of leery of the whole business and jumps everytime Kenny moves. He's now hiding under the table staring suspiciously at the cage and the wobbly red thing inside. He smells of vet, which is a Bad Smell.

Took Kenny to the vet this morning because his mouth was again very sore. And now he has to stay there, because they're going to remove his remaining teeth. I can pick him up again at 15.45, which gives me *counts* 4 hours and 45 minutes to worry about him.

Took Kenny to the vet this morning because his mouth was again very sore. And now he has to stay there, because they're going to remove his remaining teeth. I can pick him up again at 15.45, which gives me *counts* 4 hours and 45 minutes to worry about him.

Yes love, I know you've been deknackered. I brought you the vet myself. Consequently, I am fully aware that you no longer have balls, so really, there is no need to show me the evidence. Now, if you could please get your fuzzy butt out of my face.

Yes love, I know you've been deknackered. I brought you the vet myself. Consequently, I am fully aware that you no longer have balls, so really, there is no need to show me the evidence. Now, if you could please get your fuzzy butt out of my face.

Falling over when receiving head scritchies. And not the 'Oooh, scritchies. Lovely scritchies. Little bit to the left. Little bit to the right. You know, I think I'll flop down and be a puddle of fur for a bit,' kind of falling over. No, this was the 'Oooh, scritchies. Lovely scri...wait, where've my legs gone? *floomp*' kind. Complete with vague 'Wot the hell just happened?' look.

And he's getting contrary. He doesn't want to eat at the regular times anymore, but rather expects to be fed whenever he's hungry. And he'll be sure to tell us when that occurs. Problem is that Kenny's attitude to communication can best be described as One Mree Fits All. This means we regularly follow Kenny around as he enthusiastically mrees at us, the bathroom door, the computer, the back door, the window, the empty food dish and anything and everything that happens to be on the way to his ultimate goal.

Curiously, it doesn't seem to annoy him that his humans appear to be severely lacking in clue as to what he wants. In fact, we sometimes suspect that he's being vague on purpose, just so he can get even more attention. Yea, for Kenny is a hug-slut. :)

Snowball, on the other hand, is a master of non-verbal communication. He has perfected the 'Enthusiastic Dance of Food About To Happen'* , the 'Jig of Wanting Out Out Oooouuuuuut Nooooooooow (With Added Pathetic Pawing At The Window)'**, and the 'Oh My Dear Lord, My Litter Pan Has a Minuscule Amount of Poo In It! Get It Out Now!' butt-shuffle.

And he will get peeved if we don't catch on quickly enough, which usually ends up with him sitting at the foot of the bed really early in the morning and purring. Now, some of you may have heard him, but for those who haven't, Snowball's purr sounds a lot like an oncoming freight train, and is completely impossible to sleep through. Especially when he combines it with gnawing on your big toe because you moved it.

God, I'm going to miss them when I've moved. *ponders smuggling them in her luggage*

*Which consists of him jumping up and down on his back legs trying to grab the bowl of food with his front legs.

** Closely related to this is the 'Wanting To Be Let Back In 5 Minutes Later' Meerkat pose. (Sometimes with added yowl)

Falling over when receiving head scritchies. And not the 'Oooh, scritchies. Lovely scritchies. Little bit to the left. Little bit to the right. You know, I think I'll flop down and be a puddle of fur for a bit,' kind of falling over. No, this was the 'Oooh, scritchies. Lovely scri...wait, where've my legs gone? *floomp*' kind. Complete with vague 'Wot the hell just happened?' look.

And he's getting contrary. He doesn't want to eat at the regular times anymore, but rather expects to be fed whenever he's hungry. And he'll be sure to tell us when that occurs. Problem is that Kenny's attitude to communication can best be described as One Mree Fits All. This means we regularly follow Kenny around as he enthusiastically mrees at us, the bathroom door, the computer, the back door, the window, the empty food dish and anything and everything that happens to be on the way to his ultimate goal.

Curiously, it doesn't seem to annoy him that his humans appear to be severely lacking in clue as to what he wants. In fact, we sometimes suspect that he's being vague on purpose, just so he can get even more attention. Yea, for Kenny is a hug-slut. :)

Snowball, on the other hand, is a master of non-verbal communication. He has perfected the 'Enthusiastic Dance of Food About To Happen'* , the 'Jig of Wanting Out Out Oooouuuuuut Nooooooooow (With Added Pathetic Pawing At The Window)'**, and the 'Oh My Dear Lord, My Litter Pan Has a Minuscule Amount of Poo In It! Get It Out Now!' butt-shuffle.

And he will get peeved if we don't catch on quickly enough, which usually ends up with him sitting at the foot of the bed really early in the morning and purring. Now, some of you may have heard him, but for those who haven't, Snowball's purr sounds a lot like an oncoming freight train, and is completely impossible to sleep through. Especially when he combines it with gnawing on your big toe because you moved it.

God, I'm going to miss them when I've moved. *ponders smuggling them in her luggage*

*Which consists of him jumping up and down on his back legs trying to grab the bowl of food with his front legs.

** Closely related to this is the 'Wanting To Be Let Back In 5 Minutes Later' Meerkat pose. (Sometimes with added yowl)

I'm well aware that my beloved Snowball is not the brightest of cats. Usually I'm charitable and willing to pretend it's because he's still quite young, but it's difficult sometimes.

Take this morning, for instance.

He's been bouncing around the house like a slinky on crack ever since he woke up. Occasionally, he'll start climbing the walls, and attacking various inanimate objects. All fairly standard behaviour.

Then, he spots a fat pigeon on the window sill. Fat pigeon spots him and starts strutting up and down the window sill, smug in the realisation that there is a pane of glass between him and the mighty hunter.*

After clicking at it for a while, Snowball lunges at it, conveniently forgetting the presence of the window. So he smacks head first into the glass, and slides down with a baffled look on his face. He retreats to the bed and sulks for a while.

Now, I'm still willing to believe it's all inexperience and youthful exuberance, were it not for the fact that 10 minutes later, he does the exact same thing.

So I must face the awful truth. As sweet and affectionate my beloved Snowball may be, he's also dumber than a lobotomised rock.

I'm well aware that my beloved Snowball is not the brightest of cats. Usually I'm charitable and willing to pretend it's because he's still quite young, but it's difficult sometimes.

Take this morning, for instance.

He's been bouncing around the house like a slinky on crack ever since he woke up. Occasionally, he'll start climbing the walls, and attacking various inanimate objects. All fairly standard behaviour.

Then, he spots a fat pigeon on the window sill. Fat pigeon spots him and starts strutting up and down the window sill, smug in the realisation that there is a pane of glass between him and the mighty hunter.*

After clicking at it for a while, Snowball lunges at it, conveniently forgetting the presence of the window. So he smacks head first into the glass, and slides down with a baffled look on his face. He retreats to the bed and sulks for a while.

Now, I'm still willing to believe it's all inexperience and youthful exuberance, were it not for the fact that 10 minutes later, he does the exact same thing.

So I must face the awful truth. As sweet and affectionate my beloved Snowball may be, he's also dumber than a lobotomised rock.